Work Text:
As Frank pulls into the garage, he’s already moving to shift into park. He reaches overhead to hit the close garage door button, and then his head is hitting the steering wheel with a good thunk, and a dull, but pleasant, ache resonates through his skull.
Work was shit. Not only was it extra busy at the shop, but the two new interns that were supposed to be lightening his load were actually making things much more difficult. Listen. Frank Iero is all about learning on the job. Sometimes that’s the only way to learn. But when you work at a tattoo parlor... You’ve gotta have at least some knowledge going into it. But fucking Jerome and Naomi didn’t know how to sweep floors, properly wipe down counters, or even how to talk to customers on the phone. As a result, he’d ended up working more than usual, simply because he had to clean up their mess. He’d sent a pointedly worded text message to his boss, who was usually cool about this kind of stuff, so hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with them in the future, but he was fucking tired.
His bemoaning is interrupted by the door into the house swinging open, a box landing in their recycling container, and then slamming shut. Then, the door opens again, this time much slower and quieter. Footsteps pad out to where Frank’s car sits in the garage. Frank hears all this, but doesn’t have the energy to look up, or even acknowledge it.
Two knocks come from the car window. Frank (begrudgingly) lifts his head, and looks up at Gerard. Gives a small smile. Rolls down the window.
“Hey.” Gerard says, giving a small wave. “Rough day?”
Frank groans, rubbing his hand across his face. God, he needs to shave. “You’ve got no fuckin’ idea.”
Gerard shrugs, pointing over his shoulder. “Pot Roast is ready in twenty minutes.”
Frank opens the car door and follows Gerard inside. Once the door is closed behind them, Frank is sitting on the floor, cross-legged, hands in his lap. Gerard, upon realizing Frank was no longer following him, turns around and looks down at him.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Frank shrugs, looking down at his paws. “No.”
Gerard thoughtfully nods, then studies Frank’s demeanor. His hands are curled into fists, he’s gnawing at his lip. There’s a kind of vibration to him, like something needs to get out from under his skin. After careful consideration, Gerard concedes, “Okay, pup, lets get you into your gear.”
Frank looks up, shocked like he hadn’t even considered it, then quickly shifts into a kneeling position. He wiggles his butt in excitement, almost ready to pounce. Gerard beckons him forward, Frank eagerly crawling after him.
“Woah, slow down, pup! You don’t even have your knee-pads on, yet!” Gerard laughs, reaching down to yank the collar of Franks shirt. Upon feeling the sharp pressure around his neck, Frank abruptly stops, then continues on at a much slower pace. “Good boy.”
Gerard leads the two of them over to the bedroom, then commands Frank to sit pretty with a hand signal. Usually, this is where Gerard will ask limits, what gear Frank wants, stuff like that. Tonight, Frank’s made the silent decision to entrust all choices with Gerard tonight. Frank stays silent as Gerard manipulates his limbs in every which way to slide the gear onto him. First, he strips him down to his boxers, then he slides on his elbow pads, knee pads, and fluffy socks. The collar comes last. Frank looks up at him in awe (something Gerard is still has a hard time believing he’s earned) as Gerard buckles it around his neck. It’s black leather, a heart ring that sits right over Frank’s adams apple. A tiny metal plate is attached just to the left of the heart ring, engraved with the words good doggy.
Gerard opts to not use the puppy ears tonight. They’ve tried clip-ins and head bands, and they all give Frank a slight headache after hours of play. He’s probably already got a headache as it is, tonight; he doesn’t need the puppy ears working against him. The finishing touch is the leash that Gerard clips into the heart, and wraps the end around his fist.
“Follow.” He says, and walks back to the kitchen. There are no stairs to combat, so Frank happily crawls after him.
Frank is staring up at Momma from where he sits on the floor. She’s so beautiful. He stares at her face, unblinking, as she shovels vegetables into her mouth. Watches her swallow. The slight blush that colors her face as she breathes in the steam.
“Here, pup, try some.” She says, picking up a piece of cooked carrot with her fingers. He eagerly nods, crawling a bit closer to her, and opens his mouth. She places it onto his tongue, and he quickly swallows it down. She’s such a good cook. Momma takes such good care of him. The olive oil, vegetable broth, and rosemary taste wonderful. He loves his mama.
That goes on for a few more minutes. Momma takes a bite, and while she’s chewing, she feeds a piece to Frank. He gets a bit eager, waiting for the next piece. Snaps his teeth as she leans down to feed him a bit of potato. At first, she giggles, scrunching her nose up. Then, when his teeth catch her finger as he bites down too soon, she pulls away, gasping.
“Bad doggy!” She scolds, flicking his nose as he chews. Frankie cowers a bit, looking down, and shakes his head. A silent apology. “Bite me one more time, I’ll have to muzzle you. And neither of us wants that.” She says, going to ruffle his hair, then thinking better of it. Her hands are covered in oil. He wouldn’t have minded.
Frank nods. They don’t use the muzzle often. He can still talk in it, if he wants to, but it compresses his head and prevents him from kissing, licking, sucking, and biting Momma. Some of his favorite activities! He backs down, silently vowing to behave much better.
The next bites go as planned, but Frank gets a bit too eager again. Soon enough, his teeth come down on Momma’s middle and index finger, leaving beautiful indents. Momma shrieks, roughly pulling back, and stands up. “Alright, Frank. Bedroom, kneel in front of the bed. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” She says, pointing to their room.
Frank cowers, shamefully looking up at her as she unclips the leash. He gives her legs a quick nuzzle, then crawls past her, into the bedroom.
He kneels in front of the bed, assembling perfect form, trying to make up for the few bites. He knows he’ll still be muzzled, but he might as well try to get on her good side. After a few minutes, where Momma had presumably cleaned up the kitchen, she enters the room. Looking beautiful.
She doesn’t address him as she walks to the dresser, opens the drawer, and takes out a muzzle. This is also made of black leather, with a solid mask covering his lower face in the shape of a snout, and leather straps that go around his head to attach it. Two black puppy ears sprout from one of the straps. She buckles the leash back onto his collar and kneels next to him, a rare thing.
“You know I don’t like doing this, pup.” She says, buckling the straps around his head. It’s a bit looser than she usually would, to prevent him from getting a pressure headache, but still snug enough to keep him contained.
She keeps talking. Frank isn’t listening. His eyes have gone droopy, he’s swaying a bit, and when he opens his eyes, he’s staring at her. He has trouble concentrating. She’s trying to talk to him. Stupid dogs like him don’t understand English.
She snaps. His head jerks to her hand, some awareness comes back to his cloudy mind.
“Lost you there, for a minute, hm?” She giggles, patting the side of his snout. “Besides your biting, you’ve been very good tonight, so I’ll let you pick. Would you like to cuddle, play, or fuck?”
Frank tries to think. Thinks about burying his face into some crevice of her and falling asleep. Thinks about running through commands, playing tug of war, and puzzles. Thinks about her thick cock, her tight cunt, the noises she makes. His cock throbs.
He crawls forward, nuzzling into her crotch. Smelling her. Mmmmmomma.
She laughs, tugging on his hair until he’s looking up at her. “Okay, doggy, you can fuck me. I’ll even let you finger me. Just... stay there.” She says, slowly backing away. She toes off her slippers, kicking them to the other side of the room. It’s funny. If Frank were home, he’d be laughing. Fortunately, there’s just a dog in the room.
She sheds her flannel, revealing a skin-tight tank-top that hugs her curves. Frank’s eyes zero in on the collarbone she’s revealed, a sliver of skin where the top rides up. The slight pudge of what Frank affectionately calls her tits. He wiggles his butt (wags his tail) as if winding up to pounce.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasemommaiwantyousomuchlemmefuckyoupleaseineedyousomuch
But all that comes out is a whimper. She sneaks a cheeky glance at him, smiles, and pulls down her pajama pants. They fall around her feet, and she awkwardly stands on each foot as she pulls off her socks. Lastly (finally), she drops her boxers, revealing her half-hard cock, and falls backwards onto the bed.
She pats her thigh, twice. “Come get me, pup.”
Like he’s spring-loaded, he rockets towards her, climbing on top of her. He sits between her legs, kisses her neck... wait. No, he’s muzzled. He tries to kiss her neck, lets out a frustrated whimper, and grabs the lube off of the nightstand. His hands are not restrained, but he still struggles to click it open. When he finally does, he spills way too much onto his fingers, wipes some excess onto the sheets, and then pushes a finger into her ass.
She groans, lifting her arms above her head, letting him take her. He soon loses strength to hold his head up, and rests his forehead on her shoulders.
His mind goes numb and his fingers still as she yanks on the leash, just enough to choke him, not enough to move him. “More.”
He hastily, obediently, adds in another finger. He drips at the thought of getting his cock in there. She’s so fucking tight, hot, perfect, mouthwateringly suffocating. Crooks his fingers a bit, hits that spot.
“Oh, fuck!” She groans, her hips bucking into him. His left hand grips her hips, keeping her still for him. She allows it. “G-good job, pup...doggy. Fuck, right there, doggy. Gimme more.”
He presses his forehead harder into her shoulder, maybe getting a good whiff of her armpit sweat, totally not on purpose. Presses a third finger into her cunt. Scissors his fingers a bit, getting her ready for him, then presses back up against her g-spot.
She groans, her face screwing up in ecstasy, and drives her hips down onto his fingers a few times. “Okay, okay, doggy, that’s enough. Fuck me.” She says,
Frank hastily pulls his fingers out, earning a glare from Momma, before pulling off his boxers and jacking his cock a few times. His fingers are still coated in lube, and he wastes no time under her watchful glare. As soon as his cock is slick, he’s sitting up, looking down at her hole... fuck... it’s pulsing. Begging for him. He glances up at her, sees her give him a quick nod, before spreading her cheeks with one hand, and gripping his cock with the other. He pushes the cockhead into her hole, and immediately goes blind.
He comes to halfway into her hole. The base of his cock is aching, begging him to bottom out, but Momma is holding eye contact with him. “Breath with me, Frank. Fuck me with that rhythm.” She says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He goes down, once again pressing his forehead into her shoulder, but now his eyes are trained on her chest. Watching the rise and fall of her ribs. He breaths with her.
“Good, doggy.” She says blissfully. “Go ahead.”
He takes a deep breath, not straying from the rhythm, and pushes the rest of the way in. Her cunt engulfs him, swallows him whole, and he uses a substantial amount of willpower to keep fucking her how she wants. He knows where her g-spot is. His cock grazes it on every thrust. Her breathing stays consistent.
God, it’s torture. Every few thrusts, she pulls on his leash again, causing him to splutter behind the muzzle. She softly moans on each exhale, directly into his ear. But no, he’s a good doggy. He behaves (most of the time). He’ll fuck her how she wants him to. But he might complain about it.
“Please.” He manages to say between yanks on his leash. Her breath hitches, his thrusts do too. “Please, Momma. Needa fuck you.” He whimpers, tightening his hold on her hips.
“Beg some more, I like the sound of it.” She simpers back, tightening her hold on him. A hand runs through his hair, he leans into it.
He groans, thrusting particularly deep into her. Her cock throbs again. “Momma, momma, please lemme fuck you. Need it so bad. Just a dumb dog, jus’ wanna make you feel good.” The muzzle stops him from opening his mouth too wide, but he manages to get most of the words out somewhat coherently.
She moans, nodding. “Alright, doggy, I’m going to unbuckle your m-muzzle now, o... ah, shit, okay? You can go as fast as you want. But I cum first.”
He’s already nodding, then stops as she reaches back to pull the buckles free. His hips don’t stutter until she pulls it fully off, letting it land next to them on the mattress. He stretches his jaw wide, sits up, hoists her legs over his shoulders, and bites into her shoulder. And he goes. To. Town.
“O-Ah! Fuck! Good doggy! Good doggy!” She screams, bent in two. His cock pummels her prostate, forcing beautiful droplets of pre-cum out the tip of her cock. Tears stream down her face, she arches her back into his cock. “Harder, please, Frank!”
He obeys as best he can. Clenches his jaw down onto the meat of her shoulder even harder, sure to leave a horrible and ugly and wonderful purple bruise. He sits up on his knees a bit, lifting her hips up with him, and drives his cock deeper into her cunt. Her hand tightens around the leash, cutting off his airflow, and his eyes roll back into his head.
“Please, please, please, gotta cum!” She screams, and bucks her hips up, trying to get some friction on Frank’s belly. He’s too focused on fucking her to take a hand off of her hip to jerk her, but he’s fucking her hard enough to make up for it.
Frank’s vision starts to blur. His hips seem to move automatically, craving to get as deep into her as possible. The angle is driving the head of his cock right into her prostate on most thrusts, and she tightens her grip on the leash even more.
“Gonna, fuck! Doggy, please...” She groans, then arches her back and screams. She finally pulls just too hard on the leash, and Frank’s teeth scrape away from her shoulder, and the sensation returning to her shoulder is enough to send her over the edge.
He subconsciously buries himself into her as she cums, her cock pulsing, ass clenching around his cock. He thinks he passes out. He falls forward, the leash slipping out of Momma’s hand in her ecstasy.
He’s not sure what happens next, but her mouth is around his cock now. A hand, probably Momma’s, squeezes his balls. He whines, reaches down to tug on her hair, and opens his mouth.
“Mommy, lemme cum?” He whines out, barely a question.
She pulls off of his cock, opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, and nods.
Now, Frank’s pretty sure he explodes. Is his dick gone? He thinks it exploded on her face. She closes her eyes, letting it spray her, and Frank passes out for real.
When he wakes up, all of his puppy gear is gone, and he’s wearing a pair of Gerard’s shorts. A damp washcloth runs across his neck, his chin, and everywhere else. Gerard hums some random pop song from behind him.
“Is my dick gone?” Frank groggily asks, looking down at his crotch.
Gerard snorts, reaching around to grope Frank’s groin, proving that no, his dick has not disappeared. “That’s the first thing you say? No thank you for the mind blowing sex?”
“Thank you for the dick blowing sex.” Frank yawns, rolling over to face Gerard. “Shame. I would look hot with a pussy. Would you let me strap you?”
Gerard shrugs, “If anything, I think you’d look hot with tits. I like your dick just the way it is.”
Frank cracks his back, “You probably tell that to all the girls.” He mumbles, taking the wash cloth and cleaning some spunk off of Gerard’s belly.
Gerard noticeably has to think of a response. “No, just you. I tell the other girls I like their pussy just the way it is.”
Frank laughs, whips Gerard with the towel, then rolls over to turn off the light.